Then, catching sight of his companion’s eyes watching him wonderingly:
“What say?” he cried. “Did you speak?”
“No; you did.”
“No, I said nothing.”
Frank smiled.
“Yes, you said again that the man in the crowd took you for a Whig.”
“Did I? Well, I was thinking aloud then.”
“Where to, sir?” asked the waterman, as he sent the boat gliding along past the gardens of the Temple, “London Bridge?”
“No; Blackfriars.”
A few minutes later they landed at the stairs, and, apparently quite at home in the place, Andrew led his companion in and out among the gloomy-looking streets and lanes of the old Alsatian district, and out into the continuation of what might very well be called High Street, London.